


A Different Kind of Sacrifice

by cupidty11



Series: Gaylienz's Kinkalot 2020 [3]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, BAMF Merlin (Merlin), Bottom Merlin (Merlin), Canon Era, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode: s04e01-02 The Darkest Hour, Explicit Consent, First Time, Fuck Or Die, Hand Jobs, I wanna be clear that virginity is a social construct, Idiots in Love, Immortal Merlin (Merlin), Jealous Arthur, Kinda, Lancelot (Merlin) Lives, Light Angst, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Magic Made Them Do It, Magic Revealed, Merlin's Magic Revealed (Merlin), Mild Hurt/Comfort, Mildly Dubious Consent, Mutual Pining, Protective Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Protective Merlin (Merlin), Romantic Soulmates, Sex Magic, Tenderness, Top Arthur, True Love, Virgin Sacrifice, Worried Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), also kinda - Freeform, but this is a land of myth and time of magic, discussions about consent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-06
Updated: 2020-08-06
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:33:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25752892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cupidty11/pseuds/cupidty11
Summary: “Be at ease, Emrys. We are the Vilia, spirits of the river. We have healed you.” The warlock opens his mouth to ask a dozen more questions, but the spirits speak before he can. “We implore you to listen for there isn’t much time. We know what the Once and Future King is preparing to do. A blood sacrifice to appease the veil and its guardian.” They have Merlin’s full attention now. “We are here to tell you that there is another way. The choice will be yours.”Merlin’s breath catches in his throat. Maybe, for once, no one else will need to die. “Tell me.”
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Series: Gaylienz's Kinkalot 2020 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1867570
Comments: 38
Kudos: 661
Collections: Kinkalot 2020, Merlin





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [The Altar of Love](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2366561) by [Isabear](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Isabear/pseuds/Isabear). 



> Written for the 2020 Kinkalot Bonus Challenge: Sex Magic.
> 
> This...spiraled wildly out of control.  
> \--  
> Arthur and Gwen aren't a Thing(tm) here.

They see corpses everywhere, pale and frozen with expressions of terror. For the first time in years, his hands shake at the sight of death. He's grown used to feeling uncertainty and fear, channeling it into action. Hesitation is deadly, he's learned. Whatever must be done, must be done, for Albion, for the future....for Arthur. Always for Arthur.

This is no less true now, Merlin supposes, as he huddles next to his king. Their ears are straining for any sound, for the terrible screams that signal the dorocha’s approach. And when the moment comes, when the terrible visage of death comes hurtling towards them, Merlin doesn't hesitate. He knows that no one has survived their touch. He does not expect to.

The warlock throws himself at the screeching shadow, heart beating a rhythm of adrenaline and genuine fear. The creature slams into him. He is falling, falling and crashing through ice into a frozen lake. A flash of cold, so agonizing that it’s like fire. His dying mind even conjures the flames. Then there is the most claustrophobic numbness, an eerie blankness overtaking him. It steals his breath, freezes it in his lungs. Frosts over his vision. Ice creeps over his heart and stops it in place. The otherworldly coldness shuts down his body. He does not wonder if this is death, or merely life frozen in place. He can not think, not even of Arthur.

He does not see the knight's reactions of dismay, grief and rage as they arrive moments too late. They can not know that almost immediately the magic in his every cell works to warm him, to pull him back from the darkness. It swells and froths, struggles against the foreign dark magic. It overtakes the ice with a burst of energy, collecting around his heart. His magic sluggishly forces it to beat again before spreading out to his other organs. One by one, each is brute forced back into a functioning state; a magical life support.

Merlin is not able to see how Arthur might as well have frozen too, his face is so pale, expression blank and cold. The man moves like he's in pain, over to his friend's side. Arthur places a hand over the dead man’s eyes, holds it there, ignores how his hand shakes. Waits until he feels water collect on his palm. It runs down the side of Merlin's frozen face like the coldest tears. He removes his hand and prepares himself to look down into those empty eyes, to shut his friend's lids for him for the final time.

But, then he sees it. Merlin’s pupils dilate from the knight's torches. Arthur's heart skips several beats, adrenaline kicking him in the chest. He's yelling orders, ripping off his cloak to wrap around Merlin's frozen limbs. He takes a precious second to press his hand against his servant’s chest. It's so cold but it's there; trapped within a frozen cage. A heart beating reluctantly. 

* * *

The sun finally rose. But they keep the fire going long past dawn. Merlin is huddled in front of it, weak, delirious and so cold he does not shiver. All the knight’s faces are grim, sleepless with worry.

Arthur is numb. _No mortal has ever survived their touch_ , he thinks. Merlin is alive, for now.

“We have to get him back to Gaius.” He speaks without thinking.

“And abandon the quest?” Leon asks.

Arthur vows, “He saved my life, I won’t let him perish.”

“Sire, if we don't get to the Isle of the Blessed, hundreds more will perish.”

Arthur clenches his jaw and he forces himself to look over at his dying manservant, his friend. Tries to find the fire he has carried for his kingdom since he was old enough to say the word ‘Camelot’. But, it is embers, snuffed out by Merlin’s impending demise.

Sir Lancelot stands from where he’s been trying to rub feeling back into Merlin’s fingers. “Let me take him.”

“Carrying a wounded man alone, it will take you two or three days to reach Camelot.” He does not wish to part from Merlin, even as he can hardly bear to look at him, lest he find him already in death’s arms.

“Not if I go through the Valley of the Fallen Kings. You cannot give up on the quest.” Lancelot implores, eyes warm with understanding.

“Sire, he's right” Leon appeals. Arthur knows he is. Knows it is the only way. Merlin would leave; he will either be saved by Gaius, or he will die and Arthur need not see it before his own demise. He nods and seals their fate.

* * *

When Merlin is fully conscious again, without the icy slowness, the first thing he comprehends is the sky. Everything comes flooding back and he sits up. A phantom shiver wracks his frame.

“Emrys, you are better now.” A ethereal voice calls. He jerks around and sees one of the strangest (and most beautiful) things; water droplets float and shine in the dawn like crystals, each with a woman’s face. He knows his eyes are wide, mouth hanging open. An internal (prattish) voice tells him he looks like a fool. He closes his jaw with a snap.

“W-who...what?” Merlin looks around, sees the forest they’re in, the babbling brook, Lancelot’s sleeping form curled a few yards away. “I don’t understand.”

“Be at ease, Emrys. We are the Vilia, spirits of the river. We have healed you.” The warlock opens his mouth to ask a dozen more questions, but the spirits speak before he can. “We implore you to listen for there isn’t much time. We know what the Once and Future King is preparing to do. A blood sacrifice to appease the veil and its guardian.” They have Merlin’s full attention now. “We are here to tell you that there is another way. The choice will be yours.”

Merlin’s breath catches in his throat. Maybe, for once, no one else will need to die. “Tell me.”

* * *

“Bad news.” Lancelot says, face grim. The few moments that Arthur believes Merlin to be dead, are indescribable. The loss is unthinkable. The grim expression shifts into a grin. “He’s still alive.”

And then he's there. Smiling like an idiot, walking towards them with his normal clumsy gait. Looking for all the world like a mortal man.

The relief that overcomes him is so strong he feels faint. The colors come flooding back into the world. He chuckles a bit madly, breathless.

The knights swoop over to the servant, crowing greetings. There are hugs and back claps and big smiles. Everyone loves Merlin, he is their friend, their brother.

He absently shakes Lancelot’s hand, thankful for whatever miracle this is.

By the time the two of them meet, drawn into each other’s orbit, Arthur almost has a handle on himself. He can not stop himself from touching though, reaching out and feeling the warmth of him through his jacket. Merlin’s face is soft, familiar, beloved.

The only words he can think to say are, “Good to see you, Merlin.” And it is the most truthful thing he’s ever said.

“Yeah.” Merlin vows. “It’s good to see you too.” He thinks his friend is in the same boat. 

* * *

“A-Arthur, I need to talk to you.” Merlin’s voice is hesitant but with an undertone of steel. The king turns away from the forest, where he’s been keeping watch. Every time Arthur sees him, it sends a not so tiny thrill through him. He still couldn’t quite believe that Merlin was here, alive and well.

They stand in silence for a moment before Arthur nudges him in the ribs. “Well? I’m listening.”

His servant lets out a gusty sigh. “Don’t you want to know how I’m here?”

Arthur blinks. Of course he does. But, he has become quite adept at ignoring the weird things that surrounded Merlin. Plus, if he was honest, he had not dared question the miracle of Merlin alive, healthy, here. He was and that had been enough. Arthur is walking to his death and he wants his last hours to be as peaceful as possible. Which meant blissful ignorance about his supposedly mortal manservant. “I figured if it was important, you’d tell me.” He shrugs one broad shoulder.

Merlin’s face lights up, eyes shining with devotion. There it is. The Look.

Arthur would never understand how he’d gained such regard from this man in front of him. But, he was eternally grateful. And he knew his own expression must be something similar. They gaze at each other, the way they tend to do. Arthur’s eyes fall naturally to Merlin’s plump lips before jumping back up to his eyes, only to see Merlin do the same. Abort, abort. He clears his throat and breaks the moment.

The servant shifts on his feet awkwardly. “Right. Yes. Of course. Um...” He stammers, in the tone of a man who was trying to regain his thoughts. “This _is_ important. There’s another way to close the veil.”

Arthur turns to him fully, wide eyed. Merlin’s cheeks are quite pink. In fact, so are his ears. “Tell me.”

Merlin huffs and crosses his arms over his chest, a telltale sign that he is deeply uncomfortable. “It’s...another sacrifice. A different kind.” His big blue eyes dart back and forth as he thinks.

Then there’s another long moment of silence. Too long. Arthur throws his hands in the air. “Merlin, just tell me. It can’t be worse than what we’re already planning.”

The other man grits his teeth and nods with fierce determination. “Right. It’s a virgin sacrifice.”

Arthur stares, utterly bewildered. “How is that...different?” He imagines young girls tossed into volcanoes.

“Because no one dies, you prat. Someone just has to...lose it.” Merlin is decidedly not looking at him. He stares hard at a spot on the ground, expression dark.

Like a candle being lit, Arthur gets it. His own cheeks turn a bit pink, but he pretends that they aren’t. He’s overwhelmed with questions and has to sort through them to find the most important parts. He figures clarification is vital. “So...instead of throwing myself into the veil...,” Merlin stiffens. “Someone just has to...” He trails off then forces himself to continue because he’s practically a king now, gods damn it. “,lose their virginity?”

“Precisely.” Arthur’s coming down with a headache. He rubs his temple. He still has so many questions. How has Merlin come across this information? Was it to be trusted? He waves that thought away. He trusts Merlin. And true or not, it was still a much better solution than death to at least try first.

“And you...truly believe this will close the veil?” Merlin doesn’t hesitate to nod and that seals it for Arthur.

He huffs, hands going to his hips. “Alright. Now we just have to find a willing virgin. And someone else to...” He trails off, already feeling quite uncertain about the morals of this. He dares a glance at Merlin (his decidedly wobbly moral compass) who is, if possible, even pinker. He looks like he’s been sun-burnt.

His servant shuffles on his feet, but his chin is held high, jaw clenched. “We have a virgin.”

If Arthur had been struck by lightning he doesn’t think he could be any more surprised. It reverberated down him like a tune struck wrong. He doesn’t know why he is so shocked. He supposes he hasn’t really...thought about Merlin that way. Or rather, he’s avoided thinking about him like that at all cost.

“Oh.” It comes out hoarse. Frantically, he clears his throat. He wants to make a joke, break this tension. Sweep this budding feeling under the proverbial rug to be forgotten. But, something about his friend’s countenance tells him that it would be deeply unappreciated.

“Lance said he would be willing to...” Merlin trails off.

It takes a moment for him to comprehend what is being implied. Arthur’s heart stops. And his vision blurs, tinted with red. Unbidden, images flash before him of Merlin as he writhes, naked, sweat soaked and keening, while an equally bare Lancelot moves between his legs. His gut clenches so hard he nearly doubles over.

“No!” He says, loud enough that some nearby birds startle and fly off. Merlin also jumps, finally looks up at him with an uncertain expression.

“No?” Merlin tentatively questions.

“No.” Arthur repeats, nostrils flaring. Slowly, he turns to his friend and looks into his eyes. Eyes that he’d been so sure he would never see again less than a day ago. Eyes that he always finds himself getting lost in. “If it is okay with you, I...I would.” He holds his breath.

Merlin is stunned. A moment passes, as they gaze at each other. Into each other. Arthur can see everything for once; his uncertainty, his fear, his gratitude. His desire.

“I...I’d like that.” Merlin whispers.

With a hand that only slightly shakes, he dares to brush Merlin’s pink cheek. With a tremulous sigh, the other man tilts his face into the touch.


	2. Chapter 2

Gwaine looks about ready to explode with all the words he does not say. Lancelot guards the door. They've managed to find some ancient candelabras. The faint candlelight barely does anything but, it's something to fight against the nearly supernatural darkness. The room is vast, empty but for two things; a stone altar and the veil.

Arthur knows his gaze should be automatically drawn towards the terrifying tear in their reality. But, instead he keeps finding his eyes pulled to the altar.

Merlin’s is fixed firmly on the veil, face unreadable. _It truly is deeply unnatural for it to be here,_ the warlock thinks. It radiates death and incomprehensible cold.

Arthur undoes his cloak and swings it over the altar. “Merlin?” The servant startles and spins back to him. “You’re sure this will work?”

“I do.” Merlin takes a few steps closer, feeling warmer by the second as he takes in the careful way Arthur has spread his bright red cape across the stone. “The Cailleach is not only the keeper of the veil, but a goddess of death and winter. A blood sacrifice would work. But, this should as well. I’ve heard of rituals that are similar to this; to end long lasting blizzards, to thaw out the earth after a brutal winter. Those who practice the old religion often have festivals of fertility to celebrate the end of the cold and urge spring to come quicker.” He was babbling now, nerves making him jittery and loose lipped. He shuts his mouth and ignores how Arthur looks at him strangely.

Privately, Merlin also thinks that the virginity was second to the fact that it was Emrys and the Once and Future King that were performing the ritual. Merlin bites his lip and runs a hand over the cape. It feels like how it always does when he dresses his king; thick and warm. It wasn’t enough to truly hide the hard surface of the altar, but he appreciates that it won’t be as cold now.

“Are you alright?” Arthur’s voice is low, like a secret.

Merlin spares him a small smile. “I’m fine.”

He swallows then, nods to himself. People were dying out there and time was passing them by. No time for hesitation. “I suppose...” His hands go to his neckerchief, and with slightly shaky hands he undoes the knot.

Uncomprehending, Arthur watches it flutter to the floor. Watches Merlin toe out of his boots, peel off his socks. It wasn’t until he starts pulling his shirt up over his head that Arthur understands what’s happening, it knocks the breath from him a bit. And then a heat curls in his stomach, heart pumping like bellows.

 _Oh. Right._ That’s why he had never let himself think of Merlin in this way. It was too easy. Like he was predisposed to it. Like it made perfect sense even though everything else made it impossible. Like something inside him yearned to make them one.

Arthur’s mouth is dry as Merlin reveals the creamy pale skin of his stomach, chest and arms. Abruptly, he realizes that this is the most he’s ever glimpsed of his servant. Merlin has seen every inch of his own body; dressing him, undressing him, bathing him. His eyes burn as he stares, unblinking; because the man in front of him is beautiful. No, more than that. He is ethereal, other worldly. Utterly lovely, with lean muscles, broad shoulders and a thin waist that Arthur thought he could mostly encircle with his hands. The harsh light from the veil paints Merlin in shadows, emphasizing his sharp collarbone and hipbones. But, he is soft as well, golden in the weak candlelight. It fits him, Arthur thinks. A man of many sides, many mysteries. A riddle he’s never been able to fully solve, but that he never grows tired of thinking of, obsessing over all its possibilities.

A flush is already spreading across Merlin’s face, down his neck and oh, across his chest. Arthur’s nostrils flare at the discovery. He eyes tight pink nipples, already peaked from the cool air. There is an unexpected amount of hair on his chest. Arthur decides he likes it. Wonders what it feels like. Realizes he might be able to find out sooner rather than later and his cock twitches. There is shame, there is eagerness. He’s frozen in inaction.

When those hands, long pale fingers, go to undo his trouser laces, they shake. So badly he is unable to untie the knot. Arthur takes a careful step closer. Merlin’s head shoots up, eyes wide and glassy. With only slightly steadier hands, Arthur grabs the end of a lace. The other man’s shoulders slump like a weight has been lifted. Taking that as encouragement, he fumbles with the knot until it comes loose. Merlin keeps a grip on the waist, so they don’t immediately pool around his ankles.

“Can you...?” Merlin asks, voice small. Immediately, Arthur bends to undo his boot laces, kicking out of them. His socks come next, shoved inside the boots. Luckily, he’s only wearing chain-mail and not his entire set of armor. For a minute he struggles with it, then gets his hair stuck in the tight chains. Arthur curses. He hears Merlin huff.

“You can’t do anything yourself, huh?” There are hands helping him, gently untangling his hair and pulling the mail off. Soft clanking as it is placed on the floor. Arthur has barely gotten his bearings before Merlin is tugging on the bottom hem of his tunic. The king automatically lifts his arms. Once free, he nearly chokes on his tongue.

Merlin is naked, having dropped his trousers to help him get undressed. Arthur knows he's staring, eyes bugging out of his head. Merlin’s cock is soft, a shade paler than the rest of him. A dark thatch of wiry hair surrounds it. His thighs are mostly hairless, though his calves are dark with it. Those legs really do go on for miles, he muses, only interrupted by knobbly knees. His enchantment is such that he doesn’t even really notice when his own trousers are undone. They slide down, but are prevented from fully falling by catching on a rather obvious bit of his anatomy. Merlin eyes go wide with the realization, beautiful, full lips in an ‘o’ shape.

“You’re...” His servant breathes, “you want...?” The ‘me’ is silent but Arthur hears it anyway. The question was deeper than that of course. Is this duty? Is this a favor for a friend? Yes. And, also Arthur _wants_ this. Wants _him_.

With a bit of movement, his trousers fall to the floor and he steps out of them. Merlin’s breath hitches. And because he’s watching, Arthur gets to see his pupils expand with hunger.

Carefully, he cups his friend’s jaw, runs a thumb across a sharp cheekbone. “I want you.”

Merlin’s eyes flutter shut, face flush and open. He leans into the touch, and murmurs, “Have me.”

Arthur obeys, sways closer and presses a kiss to those lips (the first thing he’d noticed upon their initial meeting). They are as soft as he’s imagined. Merlin gives a quiet gasp, hands flying up to grip his shoulders. Arthur takes the opportunity to deepen their kiss, capturing Merlin’s bottom lip between his own. The shock seems to have worn off because suddenly Merlin is kissing back. His servant follows his lead, as he always has. Arthur can tell he is inexperienced, but he more than makes up for it with enthusiasm. The man kisses like he is starving for it, like it is a battle; like Arthur is feast and enemy both.

The king runs a hand through thick black locks, trying to gentle him. Shuddering, his servant lets it happen. The kiss turns languid, slow, wet. Arthur explores his mouth, until Merlin is leaning his entire weight on him. He becomes aware of the other’s hardening length as it presses into his hip. Arthur pulls away from the kiss with a slick sound. They’ve ended up in a tangled embrace; Merlin’s arms around his neck, Arthur has one pressed against his back, the other buried in his hair. The king observes the man in his arms; his swollen lips shining with their combined saliva, his flushed cheeks, and his eyes as they flutter open. They’ve darkened dramatically in color, heavy lidded with want. Beneath it, Arthur can see the disbelief that this is happening. He sympathizes. It seems like a dream. But for the nightmarish presence of the veil.

Carefully, he untangles his hand from messy hair and reaches behind his own neck to grab at Merlin’s hand. His friend grips him back, and together they walk over to the altar. They merely look at it for a moment, two warriors surveying the battlefield. Then the king wraps his arms around Merlin; one under his knees, the other behind his back and lifts him.

“A-Arthur!” The servant yelps, as he’s manhandled. He hits the king’s shoulder as he’s laid across the cloak covered stone. “You prat. I’m not a damsel.” The grin feels strange Arthur’s face, but it’s there. Trust Merlin to always make him smile even in the weirdest of situations. And Merlin’s cock is still hard. Maybe even harder now, as he pants on the altar, an offering.

The grin slips into a smirk and he leans closer, placing a hand next to the other man’s hip. “I think you liked it, _Mer_ lin.”

Wide eyed, Merlin scoffs, but it’s rather weak. He can’t take his eyes off Arthur, his king, his friend, who is going to...he’s going to fuck him. _Oh gods._ Merlin squirms a bit, the altar is uncomfortably hard even with the cloak, but he almost...likes it? The magic was thick here, it makes him feel heavy. And he’s laid out for Arthur, naked and vulnerable in the candlelight. He’s scared, unsure. But, he trusts this man with everything he is.

Arthur watches him for a few seconds before he saunters back to their clothes. Merlin’s heart skips a beat and he sits up on his elbows. “What are you--?”

“Calm down, Merlin. I’m just grabbing some things.” Arthur digs in Merlin's bag until he pulls out the little jar of ointment that was normally used for armor chafing.

“Oh. Right.” They would need...that. Merlin fights the slightly hysterical giggles bubbling in the back of his throat. Arthur also grabs their tunics and rolls them into a little pillow shaped thing. “And...that?”

The man smiles and lopes back over to the altar. He places the jar next to Merlin’s head. “For your hips”

“My...?” Arthur wraps an arm around Merlin’s knees and lifts him ( _so easily_ , he thinks wildly), sliding the tunics under his hips. Then with a jolt he realizes it’s so he is better angled to take Arthur’s cock. He starts panting with anticipation, shifting restlessly. Just thinking about it sends twin feelings of fear and need through him.

Arthur places a hot hand on his stomach, probably meaning to calm him. Merlin arches into the touch, letting out a little shocked moan. Then he realizes what he’s done and turns bright red. He covers his face, ashamed. He waits for some smug mocking or awkward remark. Instead, Arthur’s hand moves in a soothing little circle. His cock jerks against his hip and the warlock’s keen is muffled by his hands.

“Merlin. Look at me. Please.” It’s the ‘please’ that has him peeking out from between his fingers. “Do you trust me?” At that, Merlin drops his hands entirely, instinctively ready to reassure his friend.

“Of course I do.” There is no one he trusts more. Arthur smiles, and does something that makes Merlin’s heart want to explode. He kisses the warlock’s knobby knee. Just a soft peck that barely lingers. It makes him swallow, hard.

“Good. I know that...that you’re scared. I was, my first time.” Merlin’s eyes widen. They’ve never talked about stuff like this, despite how close they are. Never strayed towards that territory, even though all the knights were far from shy about their sexual escapades. Arthur never joined in. “And...you deserve better than this. Your choice has been essentially taken from you and that, that’s...” Arthur looks awful, nearly sick, frowning hard. “I hate that we’re doing this for the sake of the kingdom. You deserve to be able to choose to do this whenever, wherever, and with whoever...you want...” Arthur trails off, lost. “If you want to change your mind. I understand completely.”

Merlin’s chest hurts. He sits up until their faces are even. “Arthur...” He tries to think of how to say what he feels. “You’re _right_. I am scared, have been scared.” _Have always been scared_ , he does not say. “I do wish things were different.” Arthur nods, grimly. “I wish this altar was a bed and that the veil wasn’t there. But,” He bites his lip, and looks up at his king through his lashes. “I wouldn’t change the ‘who’.”

Stunned, Arthur searches Merlin’s face. Finds something that he’s been overlooking, maybe even purposefully ignoring because of so many other reasons. None of which seem to matter anymore in the face of everything that’s happened. “Oh.” Then he is grinning, and climbing up onto the altar. Merlin’s eyes widen, but he returns the grin. _Kissing was harder when you were both smiling like idiots_ , the warlock thinks.

The next few minutes are a blur of pleasure as Arthur’s big, rough hands ran all over his body. They toy with his nipples, plucking and pulling them into tight nubs until Merlin is squirming with it. Arthur’s mouth is on his neck, biting at his collarbone, licking the ridge of his ear. Everything feels so good! He squirms and makes embarrassingly loud noises. He tries his best to reciprocate, exploring the sturdy body the way he’s never let himself fantasize about. The discoveries are plentiful; kissing and sucking at the old scar on his shoulder has Arthur groaning roughly, raking his nails down the ridges of his spine causes him to shudder and attack Merlin with harder kisses.

Merlin keeps his eyes shut, afraid his magic will be shining in them. It is bubbling in him, equal in intensity to the pleasure. It wants out, wants free, to be allowed to touch as well. Merlin doesn’t let it. He clamps down on it, throwing as much resistance at it as he can while his mind is being assaulted with new sensations. It doesn’t help his concentration as those hands caress his hip bones, sliding over his thighs, avoiding his weeping cock.

“Touch me.” The warlock pleads, spreading his thighs.

Arthur bites out a laugh, pressing a wet kiss to Merlin’s chin. “Should’ve known you’d be like this.”

Merlin’s eyebrow raises, making Arthur think of Gaius which was just wrong, even if he did find it a bit adorable. “‘Like’ what exactly?”

“Bossy.” With hardly any pressure, he runs his palm over Merlin’s straining cock. The servant flings his head back, lets out a loud whimper. The head is already leaking precum onto his stomach. His member is flushed pink and slightly longer than his own, though not as large around. He does it again, putting a bit more weight onto it and is awarded with a yell. “Loud.” Arthur continues, a bit smug. A bit awed.

“ _Oh_ ,” Merlin breathed. “Shut up. Oh.”

“Insolent.” The king replies, gripping him fully. Merlin is perfect in his hand. He begins to test speeds, watching for positive reactions. Though seemingly, everything he does is received with great enthusiasm. Merlin’s lean muscles spasm at the onslaught of pleasure. Arthur gathers pre-cum from Merlin’s twitching stomach on his next stroke, slicking the way for a rougher grasp.

Merlin clings to his bicep, pants into his neck. His balls are drawn up tight. “Can you come like this?” He murmurs into his lover’s hair. His only response is a groan and a jerk of the hips, Merlin fucking up into his tight grip. “Come on then.”

“ _Arthur_ ,” Merlin gasps, trembles and comes all over the king’s hand, stomach and chest. Arthur hums encouragingly, and coaxes him through it. His orgasm is near soundless despite the noises he’d made leading up to it, just shuddering breathing and the smallest whimpers.

“Beautiful.” Arthur murmurs belatedly. The servant whines and pushes his hand away, over sensitive. Silence reigns but, for Merlin’s panting.

Once his heart has calmed, he opens his eyes and peeks at the king. Arthur is watching him. Merlin fights his shyness. “Hi.”

The other man is all perfect white teeth as he smiles. “Hello.”

Merlin licks his lips, and tastes Arthur there. It makes his mouth water. “Wh-what now?”

The king kisses his forehead. “Now, I want you to relax.” Merlin leans into the kiss, obeying by letting his body go slack. “I’m going to take care of you.”

Merlin smiles softly. “That’s my job.”

Arthur huffs, and reluctantly wipes his come covered hand on his cape where it hung off the altar. Once it’s mostly clean he moves, taking the bottle of ointment with him. Tiredly, Merlin watches as his king curls in front of his body. Arthur runs a soothing hand over one of those lovely thighs, coaxing them open. Merlin makes a soft noise and willfully submits, allowing his legs to dangle over the sides of the altar.

Arthur bites his lip as he gets his first look at the entrance to Merlin’s body. It is objectively like any other anus out there; furled, tight, surrounded by soft skin and dark,coarse hair. Except, it isn’t like any other because it belongs to Merlin. For the first time, a frisson of uncertainty works through him. The reality of what was happening, makes his stomach explode with butterflies. This is MERLIN. His servant, his best friend...and much more, besides. Arthur’s next breath is unsteady.

As though sensing his sudden distress, the tips of Merlin’s fingers brush against his knee. That small touch is enough to stir up his courage, just like it always has been able to. With steady hands he grabs the bottle, uncorks it and dips his fingers into the viscous ointment. The scent is familiar, almost comforting. He’s lost count of the amount of times Merlin has gently spread this same cream over his shoulder or ribs all while berating him.

Riding the wave of bravery, he presses his thumb against the furled hole. The other man jerks. Arthur murmurs an apology, wrapping his free hand around Merlin’s calf and squeezing. The servant relaxes immediately, allowing Arthur to lift the same leg up onto his shoulder, allowing for even better access. He spreads the ointment in a circle around the tight skin. It flutters and twitches, oh so responsive. Arthur hears Merlin’s breathing speed up.

“I’m going to--” He croaks.

“Do it.” Merlin’s voice is deeper than he’s ever heard it. Arthur does; presses his middle finger inexorably forward until it's sheathed fully by Merlin’s body. His lover lets out a long breath.

“Alright?”

“Y-yeah. It....it doesn’t hurt.”

Arthur kisses the leg up on his shoulder, feels strangely proud. “Good. Good. That’s good.”

He pulls his finger back out just as slowly, listening to Merlin’s breathing as it catches in his throat at the feeling. Grabbing the ointment, he reapplies it and with more confidence this time, slips right back inside. This time he allows himself to note how tight and hot Merlin is around him. He repeats the actions of before, pumping his finger in and out until there it is an easy, steady slide.

“Ready for two?” Arthur asks, lowly.

“Yes. _Yes_.” Merlin’s chest is pink again, his nipples tight as he pants. Two fingers is a bit more difficult but, soon they too are slipping in and out. Arthur feels like he is watching something miraculous, eyes wide with awe. His cock aches between his legs, and as he adjusts it rubs against the back of Merlin’s thigh. They groan simultaneously. It echos around the chamber and back to them. The two of them sit in shock for a moment.

“P-please, Arthur.” Merlin pleads. Arthur has no desire to disobey, filling his friend again and again. A third digit is pressed inside and his lover is lifting his hips into the sensation, moving with it. Arthur’s mouth waters, as he watches his fingers vanish and reappear from the tight clutch of Merlin’s body. The sight is obscene and Arthur muffles his curse against Merlin’s leg. Merlin in this state is even more gorgeous. His hair starting to curl from the sweat, his lithe muscles flexing and shining.

“ _Look at you_.” The king praises. “You’re a natural.” Merlin lets out a sound that is half moan, half laugh.

“A-Arthur!” His lover cries, multiple meanings in his name; pleasure and command. One that he was eager to oblige. Pulling his fingers out, he uses them to scoop up a large glob of the ointment.

Merlin is panting, staring up at the ceiling, glassy eyed. Once he feels the king’s movement, he lifts up on his elbow to watch hungrily as Arthur spreads it over his red, weeping cock. Even that touch is enough to make him bite back moan, heat coiling in his abdomen. Arthur huffs a breath to push his bangs out of his eyes. “This isn’t going to last long.”

The warning makes Merlin’s lips twitch. His eyes are darker than Arthur’s ever seen them, irises swallowed by black. “It doesn’t need to.”

The king gives him a half smile, “Right.”

Then, heart aching, he presses a light kiss against Merlin’s lips. It’s returned instantly. They kiss for a few moments before Merlin suddenly lays back down, chest heaving. “Please.” It’s quiet. So quiet he strains to hear it.

Arthur nods. And he keeps nodding, as he catches his breath. “Okay. Okay.”

With care he shuffles closer, gripping his cock. Before he even does anything Merlin is already moving, shoving the tunics beneath his hips into a better position and spreading his legs further apart than he probably needs to. Quickly, he grips Merlin’s thighs to steady him and gulps. Heart pounding out of his chest, Arthur grasps his sex and places it against Merlin’s glistening, loosened entrance. In sync, they suck in a breath. With only the slightest effort, he moves forward and slides the head inside.

It is momentous. Earth shattering. Merlin’s eyes start watering, and he suddenly forgets how to breathe. Not from pain or from sorrow, though there is a tiny bit of both. Just from the feeling. Of Arthur’s hot, thick cock as it presses inside him. It is the most intimate thing he’s ever experienced; Arthur’s body inside of his own. He feels split open, physically and emotionally.

The king shifts, arms flexing as he tries to give his lover time to adjust. Merlin makes no sound, just breathes, until he presses forward another inch. Merlin can feel the shape of him, the heat and width and it punches the air from him. He is not just split open but being filled. Full of Arthur. A tear runs down the side of his face and Merlin moans, long and loud.

Arthur feels the tension in his shoulders melt away. “M-Merlin, Merlin...” There is so much he wants to say, the words crowding behind his teeth. Nothing seems right,nothing makes sense. His mind is scattered, overwhelmed by the feeling of being inside of this man. He is so hot inside, so tight and perfect. Like home and adventure. Like the missing piece he didn’t even know he was looking for.

Halfway through his forward motion he has to stop, Merlin’s body vice-like, too tight to fit any more. The dark haired man shudders and whines. Arthur rubs his thumb against the intimate stretch of Merlin’s arsehole around him. “Relax, darling, let me in,” He dares to lean over and suck at the stiff peaks of Merlin’s nipples.

Mewling, Merlin writhes and grabs his own cock which had flagged a bit from the shock and stretch. He frantically strokes himself, slick with old and new cum. The distraction allows Arthur to slide the rest of the way inside. Their hips are touching, bodies close and sharing heat. The hand not on his cock, clings to Arthur’s back. He notes distantly that it is slick with sweat.

They pant together for a moment. Arthur leans back to look at Merlin. His eyes are slightly unfocused, still bright with tears but they meet his and Arthur can see the determination, the desire still shining from within. This time Merlin is the one to press their mouths together. They kiss, tender and unselfconscious. Then Arthur begins to move.

It starts slow; pulling out until just the tip remains. Merlin moans into his mouth, both hands flying up to curl in Arthur’s hair. At the encouragement, he speeds up. Arthur’s balls slaps against Merlin’s skin, obscenely loud in the empty room. They fuck like they’ve been doing it for years; Arthur finding his lover’s prostate with pin point accuracy. His magic drowns him, lighting him up inside. It presses against his skin, froths at the back of his throat and behind his eyes. It is molten in his veins and seems to only grow in intensity with every deep stroke of his king’s cock inside him. He clamps tight down on it (and around his king). His toes curl, and Arthur breathes his name, sounding utterly wrecked, “ _Merlin._ ”

It is too much for Merlin who thrashes and whimpers into their embrace. Arthur nudges his prostate again on the next powerful thrust and he is coming untouched all across his belly and chest. White hot spurts of come cover his stomach and chest, and he makes no noise, unable to find air. All he can do is clutch at Arthur, and give him everything.

Arthur groans, Merlin’s hole clenching around his cock. A few more thrusts and he spills inside his best friend. Instinctively, he keeps going until he is empty, pressing forward into Merlin’s limp body. The warlock’s hands run all over his back, distantly aware of slow, wet drops running down his tailbone.

With shaking arms, Arthur collapses on him. Merlin ‘oof’s and lightly smacks his back. “Prat.” But, his voice lacks any kind of heat, weak from his own noises of pleasure. Neither move, unwilling to break the moment. Arthur is momentarily awash in contentment, nose pressed behind the other man’s ear.


	3. Chapter 3

Merlin bites his lip. He feels his king softening inside him and it is another new sensation that he finds he likes. Too much.

Sorrow overwhelms him. He tries to memorize everything, lock it in his heart where he keeps everything else to do with Arthur, aware that this will most likely be the last time he experiences it.

Sensing the sudden tension Arthur lifts his head. Their eyes meet. Merlin wants to look away, afraid that his heart is shining from his face. The king’s expression softens at whatever it is he sees. Terrified of what comes next, Merlin frantically tries to sit up.

“Are you--?”

“Fine.” It is high pitched and obviously false. Arthur gets the hint and pulls away, slipping out. Merlin feels the loss of the other man’s cock keenly. It leaves him empty and aching, enough that a pained noise escapes his lips before he can choke it back.

“Merlin.” Arthur tries, alarmed. He reaches out to grab at him, to hold him. To bring this amazing man back into his arms. This man who he is quickly realizing he never wants to be parted from. Even a few days had been too much.

But, Merlin is already standing, having flung his legs over the side of the altar and stumbling off. The air was so much colder than he remembers it being, Merlin shivers. Then stiffens.

“The veil!” He spins on his heel, nearly falling over in his haste. Where there had been a horrible, screaming tear in the fabric of their reality, now there is nothing. It's rather anticlimactic. But, maybe that is the point.

“It worked.” Arthur murmurs, coming to stand next to him.

“It worked.” Merlin agrees.

Perhaps, having heard nothing for a few minutes, the door behind them creaks open. Lancelot tensely inquires, “Is everything--?”

Arthur’s entire demeanor shifts. He stiffens, turning to glare at the intruder, with eyes that burn with the promise of violence. Stepping in front of Merlin’s still nude form, he snarls, “Get out!” Merlin doesn’t need to look to know that Lancelot had bowed apologetically and closed the door post haste.

The warlock huffs, and goes to struggle into his trousers. “You didn’t need to do that.” He tries to ignore how the insides of his thighs are sticky. How his insides hold the memory of Arthur’s body, making it harder to walk properly.

Arthur deflates from his rage. He observes his friend for a second before reaching down to do the same. Once he isn’t completely naked, he crosses his arms. “Maybe not.” The king admits. “But,” His throat works around the sudden lump in it. “I didn’t want him to see you. Like this.” There is a mark blooming beautifully on Merlin’s long neck, Arthur notes with guilty pride.

The servant opens his mouth, shuts it again, unsure of what to say. Instead, he stumbles back over to the altar and,with shaking hands, extracts his tunic. It is a wrinkled mess but none the worse for wear. He slips it over his head, hair coming out a bit wild.

“Merlin...” Arthur nearly begs, cutting through the distance between them. His tunic is held out to him, blocking his path but he ignores it. He curls his fingers around Merlin’s wrist. With a gasp, the servant tries to pull away. Arthur lets go immediately. “Talk to me. Please.”

“About what?” He croaks. “We did it. We, we closed the veil. Saved the kingdom. Maybe the world. And now we don’t have to, we don’t have to talk about this ever again.”

The words feel like physical blows, each one knocking him flat. Heart beating out of his chest, the king fights to gather himself. “Is...is that what you want?” Voice breaking on the last syllable.

“It’s what needs to happen.” Merlin fumbles with his neckerchief. Slowly, Arthur reaches out. He takes the ends of the fabric from shaking fingers and ties a neat little knot. Then, with bated breath, he presses a chaste kiss to the soft skin above it. Merlin freezes.

“Why does it need to happen?” Arthur murmurs against his neck, breathing in that which is uniquely Merlin.

The servant spins to face him, face contorted in agony. “Why are you doing this?”

Looking into those familiar eyes, Arthur thinks he understands. “Because when the Dorocha got you, I was glad I was going to die.”

Merlin looks as if Arthur has slapped him.

“Wh-what are, what are you even--?” His voice rises, hysterical.

“I was sure you were dead. Everyone else has died. You were nearly frozen solid, Merlin.” Arthur chokes, gripping the other man’s upper arms. “And even after we realized you’d somehow lived, no one believed you’d come back...alive and whole. We all thought you’d die on the way back to Camelot. So, I was...I was okay with knowing I would be sacrificing myself for my kingdom. And I was glad that I would never have to truly learn what it was like to live without you.”

Merlin looks absolutely gobsmacked. He sputters, words impossible. His eyes flicker between Arthur’s face, the altar and the door. The king tightens his hold, worried he’ll make a break for it or faint.

“Wh-what...what does that...?” Tears finally spill over, running down Merlin’s face. The man doesn’t seem to notice, still overwhelmed by what he’s been told.

Arthur swallows and runs his thumb over one cheekbone, brushing some of them away. “It means, _Mer_ lin, that I want you by my side. In whatever way you’re willing.”

Disbelieving, the servant shakes his head. “But, but you’re the king?!”

“Nearly king.” Arthur corrects. “And what’s your point?”

Merlin flails, nearly smacking Arthur in the face. “You need a Queen! You need an heir! No one, no one would accept that you, that you...” He trails off, uncertain.

Arthur isn’t. Not anymore. He presses his forehead against Merlin’s, and whispers, “That I love you?”

Merlin finally bursts into ugly sobs. “Shut up!” He bawls, shoving at the king’s chest. “You-you don’t even know-you don’t know anything!”

Bewildered but protective, Arthur wraps his arms around him. “I know a lot of things. What are you talking about? Or are you just gibbering?”

“You’re such a--such a arse! You... _can’t_ love me!” Merlin stands frozen in his arms, unable to decide if he wants to fall into the protection offered or run far away.

“And why not?” Arthur prods.

At that, Merlin tears himself away. “How did I survive, huh?” He challenges, almost angrily. Frustrated, he wipes at his nose with his shirt sleeve. “No one else did. Don’t you want to know how your pathetic, foolish, weakling of a manservant managed to do what Gaius said was impossible?”

With an unreadable expression, Arthur holds his hands out, urging peace. Taking a deep breath, he searches for the correct words. “I don’t care.” Then he shakes his head. “Actually, I _do_ care. I care a lot. But, whatever it is, I...I am so, so thankful that you’re here. Nothing else matters to me.”

Merlin scoffs, face still twisted with pain but it is also pink with the sweet words. His chest aches, he wanted to fling himself into Arthur’s arms. But, this secret is life or death, it is everything. The words claw at the back of his throat. Every time he opens his mouth to throw them at his king’s feet like a gauntlet, he can’t get them past his teeth.

So instead, he holds his closed fist out, and with barely effort at all, conjures a butterfly. He opens his fist, spreading his fingers out. The glowing creature flutters out of the palm of his hand. Never once does he take his eyes off of Arthur.

The white of the king’s eyes are visible all around his irises, mouth agape.

“I have magic. I was born with it.” Merlin decrees, “And I use it for you, Arthur. _Only for you_.” He waits, trembling with emotion. Over the years he’s tried to imagine how Arthur would react. And every scenario was different, some more optimistic than others. He knew this man better than he knew himself. But, fear and love made everything seem plausible.

As he watches, Arthur’s expressions shift. They change rapidly as the king analyzes and re-analyzes everything he knew. Merlin recognizes his automatic rage in the lines of his face. Watches as he pushes it aside, allowing himself to think logically despite the agony he must be feeling, every inch The King. If Merlin didn’t want to throw up, he would have been able to better appreciate how Arthur’s brilliant mind visibly works; the new information being looked at from every angle and missing puzzle pieces being put into their proper place. They stand in silence for several minutes; Arthur thinking and Merlin allowing it, knowing it’s necessary, waiting for judgment.

“Oh.” Arthur quavers, there is a dawning realization on his face. Merlin’s chin wobbles again despite how hard he is clenching his jaw. “ _Merlin...”_ He stumbles towards the warlock who holds himself still, eyeing the other man warily. Then those big, strong arms are around him again, so tightly it hurts. Arthur’s breath is hot against his jaw as he whispers, “I knew I had a guardian angel.”

Merlin’s breath hitches. His knuckles turn white where they cling to his king. They just hold each other for a long time. 

* * *

Gwaine had been pacing back and forth for what felt like hours. The conversation between the two knights had died out just as long ago. The stone door was thick, but it wasn’t sound proof.

When said door finally begins to creak open, Lancelot is immediately on his feet. When it is open enough to reveal his king and his friend, his eyes dart back and forth between them. Both have red rimmed eyes. Arthur is clearly trying to fight a smile, while Merlin is grinning like he’s just won the tourney.

Well. None of his business, he thought, pleased for them.

“Sire?” He inquires.

Arthur nods. “All is well. Let’s go home.” He smacks Lance’s shoulder as he passes.

The knight shares a look with Merlin whose expression tells him that everything truly is well.

Gwaine practically flies to Merlin, ruffling his hair and nudging at him. When the innuendo starts, the warlock does not hesitate to kick him in the shin.

The other round table knights are waiting for them outside. Shouts of victory and joy ring out at the announcement of the veil’s closure. No one says a single thing as Arthur helps Merlin onto his horse. They do whisper among themselves, when that evening the two sit closer together than normal, Merlin practically in the king’s lap.

Arthur presses a kiss against Merlin's palm, and there are smiles, drinks and toasts all around.


End file.
